Smoking Kills
by ThisWriterGirl
Summary: Blaine Anderson doesn't know why, but he smokes- just very rarely. Stress gets to him? Smokes. Fights with his dad? Smokes. Schoolwork getting to his head? Smokes. A few people know that he tried it. No one knows he still does. However, when Kurt Hummel catches him at the park, lighting up a cigarette, there's a story he has to share. Three-shot, Klaine, slightly AU
1. Part One: The First Smoke

**Author's Note:** _Hi! Thank you so much deciding to read this fanfiction. I do not in any way, shape, or form encourage smoking or wish for anyone to try it. It just happens to be part of this story. I'm not sure how many parts will be in this, but I am assuming there will be around three. I'm not too familiar with fanfiction with the Warblers, so their personalities will probably be different than how others portray them. Klaine will be the primary ship found here. If you are in recovery from smoking, please be careful while reading this, as it may be triggering. Again, thank you for reading and have a great day! :)_

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**Smoking Kills**

** Part 1**

Okay, so maybe smoking was a bad idea.

Cigarettes aren't exactly wonderful for you and your health. However, neither are drugs, or alcohol, or eating disorders, or self-harm, or self-destructive behaviors in general. They're addictive, as people always say, yet they also say these things make some people feel so much better than before. So, if Blaine Anderson had to choose what addiction to have... he'd choose smoking. No question.

They say the nicotine is the addictive component in smoking, and it both is and isn't at the same time. The _feeling _it gives you is the obsession, not the nicotine. Then again, nicotine is what causes the feeling, and therefore the addiction.

The first time Blaine had tried a cigarette was during his sophomore year at Dalton Academy. He was with Nick, Wes, and David, some of the greatest people he'd ever met. This particular day was one of those beautiful weather days, so rare in Ohio that the students at Dalton just _had _to go outdoors. Blaine and his friends were sitting outside by the trees, supposedly studying. (This meant that they were in fact barely studying at all, because they had maintained the habit of procrastinating until the literal last second.)

In their navy blazers and matching ties, they looked like something out of a corny 80's movie set at a boarding school in England, or even the characters from_ Dead Poets' Society._ It would seemingly fit this setting apart from the lack of English accents and/or poetry books. The four boys did, however, have the same "corny friendship" as you might think to be in such films.

Now, though... back to the smoking thing.

When outside, cigarettes and lighters are a more-than-familiar sight. Nick had been smoking, which wasn't precisely permitted at Dalton, but it wasn't precisely _outlawed _either. Blaine had always wondered why Nick smoked. He was a member of the Warblers, after all. Smoking damaged and blackened your lungs. Your singing voice in return should turn out damaged too, right? It seemed illogical, at least to Blaine, that anyone would smoke- especially someone whose life revolved around singing.

"Hey, want one?" Nick offered. He plucked a cigarette out of his pack of Marlboros, which were conveniently placed in the pocket stitched to his uniform jacket. He gestured out to Blaine.

"I don't smoke," Blaine answers quickly, shaking his head. _Peer pressure, _he thinks. _Isn't this what everyone warns you about when you're younger?__  
_

"It won't kill you," Nick replies, putting the cigarette a little closer to Blaine's face. Blaine scrunched up his nose. The cigarette even smelled terrible from here.

"It damages your lungs and can lead to emphysema and lung cancer," Wes states clearly, leaning against the bark of the tree.

"You read that out of a textbook," David remarks.

Wes scoffs. "Does it look like I have a textbook in front of me? Either way, we all learned about smoking in _freshman year, _David." he says. "It's absolutely horrible for your health and it's addictive and-"

"Yeah, that's why people still smoke," Nick interrupts, still holding the cigarette out to Blaine.

"Just because people do smoke it doesn't mean it's good for you," Wes snaps at him.

Nick rolls his eyes, ignoring Wes and turning back to Blaine. "Just try it, and if you hate it, never do it again. It's a simple compromise to both of our opinions," he says, regarding Wes.

"Nick, I'm sorry, but that's idiotic," Wes notes blankly, avoiding eye contact.

_Peer pressure, _Blaine thinks. Good_ or bad? Probably bad. Going to help me? No. Will this do me any good? No. Everyone who smokes sounds horrible and their lungs are ruined and they can't sing and I don't know if I want to do this but it's just one time and oh God I'm rambling again... Okay. Focus, Blaine._

_If it's just one time... it's not going to hurt._

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," Blaine mutters. He gingerly takes the cigarette from Nick's hands.

"Don't smoke, Blaine," David adds in, wrinkling his nose as Nick lets out a huge puff of smoke towards him. "That's _disgusting,_"

"You're disgusting," Nick replies nonchalantly, flicking the ash from one cigarette onto the ground before pulling out another. He lights up one end, sucks in, and lets out the smoke. The smoke circles up into the air before disappearing.

Nick then hands the lighter over to Blaine. "You ready, man?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Blaine nods. He flicks the switch on the lighter, a tiny breath of orange fire puffing up. He puts the flame over the end of the cigarette. He puts it between his lips, takes one long drag, exhales- and coughs. He coughs a lot more than he think he probably should.

"Are you okay, Blaine?" Wes asks, watching Blaine in his coughing fit.

"I-I'm, uh, fine," Blaine says, coughing into his elbow now.

"That happens the first time," Nick adds, before drawing in his own cigarette and exhaling more of the wretched smelling smoke. "Forgot to mention it."

"Would've been helpful to know, don't you think?" David argues.

"I'm alright, David," Blaine says, regaining himself. "I'll just try it again."

He does. The inhaling doesn't last nearly as long this time. 3 seconds, tops, before letting the smoke out. It whirls around in the breeze, silvery and wispy and light, before fading into the air.

It tastes horrible, absolutely horrible, like ash and musk. It made Blaine want to throw up, to spit it out, to shout at Nick for supposedly tricking him into smoking a "bad cigarette", if there is such a thing. It was the most horrible thing that he may have ever done.

But it felt good.

Relaxing.

Like all your worries would just melt away.

Wes and David looked at each other. "You okay?" David asks. "You look kinda.. tired,"

"Blaine?" Wes asks. He puts his hand in front of Blaine's face and waves several times. "Are you going to speak?"

"How do you feel?" David questions.

Blaine stares at the three of them. Wes, David, and Nick, some of the best friends he'd ever had. People who accepted him no matter what the cause. People who he knew would only want what's best for him.

"Give me another one," Blaine states, reaching out his hand.

Nick smirks. "My pleasure."


	2. Part Two: What is Wrong with Blaine?

**Author's Note: **_Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for reading. Again, I do not in any way endorse smoking or encourage anyone to try it or continue doing so. This chapter takes place about a year after the previous one. It revolves around Kurt, while the next chapter will be on both Kurt and Blaine._

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**Smoking Kills**

**Part 2**

Blaine Anderson has had a rough life. He never talks, never says anything, but you can tell. Maybe it's the way his eyes (usually oh-so bright) are so hollow when you mention his parents. Or when he glances away from you the moment you talk about having a loving family. Or how he shuts down when people begin talking about suicide. They say you never quite know what other people are going through.

This couldn't be more true when it comes to Blaine.

Kurt Hummel had known Blaine for about six months now. It started when he was supposed to spy on the Warblers, the show choir group for Dalton Academy. Kurt met Blaine by asking him a question, claiming to be "new". Being the kind person he is, Blaine accepted. Kurt was eventually figured out- not that he was all that good at spying anyway- but still talked to Blaine outside of that disastrous event.

Things weren't so good back at McKinley High for Kurt, however. A boy named David Karofsky was harassing him to the point where he did not feel secure anymore. He confided in Blaine, who helped immensely. The harassment did not stop though, continuing to get worse and worse and worse. Eventually, Kurt's dad and stepmother sent him to Dalton Academy to avoid death threats and bullying.

Over the period of time Kurt had been going to Dalton, Kurt and Blaine had become... well, friends. They talked about everything and nothing, to the moon and back. They had become closer than Kurt could have imagined. And yet, Kurt still couldn't quite figure him out. It was so _aggravating._

Oh, there were plenty of reasons why Kurt had wanted to know who Blaine truly was. For one thing, Blaine was a good friend. A _really _good friend. For another, Kurt was very close with Blaine, but Blaine never returned the whole "I'm-feeling-emotional-and-pouring-out-my-heart-to -you" act. There was always something wrong with him, though. That was one thing that Kurt could deduce.

But God, he would've given anything to figure out Blaine Anderson.

_"Kurt!" _a shout came from the middle of the hallway.

Kurt spun on his heel, turning around to see Wes waving at him as he walked over. Kurt smiled, waving back, keeping his books secure in the crook of his arm. Dalton Academy had been very warm and welcoming since he arrived.

"Hi, Wes!" Kurt says cheerfully.

"How's Pavarotti doing?" Wes asks.

Pavarotti was one of the canaries that the Warblers gave to their new members. Being the newest member, Kurt was given the bird. Oddly enough, Pavarotti became somewhat of a friend- not to mention that he sang along with Kurt's mini-Broadway productions while he was in the shower.

"Oh, Pavarotti!" Kurt says. "He's doing well, singing and being optimistic as always,"

"I'm glad you enjoy his company," Wes says, the corners of his lips tugging at a smile. Wes always seemed so professional for a 17 year old, down from the way he held himself- hands clasped together behind his back, perfect posture- to the way he spoke.

"I was just wondering, Wes, is the audition tomorrow?" Kurt begins. "I really want to audition for Sectionals-"

"Oh, the audition is this Friday," Wes replies. "You're completely welcome to audition for Sectionals. Be sure to bring your A game. I have a feeling it's gonna be a tough one this year."

Kurt laughs. "I will, someone- and by someone I mean Blaine- will be sure to steal the spotlight,"

"Speaking of which," Wes says, the tiny smirk he had acquired fading away. "Have you seen Blaine around? Supposedly, he wasn't at any of his classes the last three hours... but we're sure he hasn't left the area, since his parents would have had to pick him up."

Kurt's eyes widened. "No, I haven't," he says. "That's so unusual for Blaine to go off like that,"

"I know. The teachers have been checking everywhere, but there are no signs of him so far." Wes begins to turn away, before adding in. "Let me know if you find him, Kurt- oh, and good luck with your audition Friday!"

"Thanks, Wes!" Kurt says, waving goodbye. He watches Wes leave, shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor, disappearing as he rounds the corner. He stays in the hallway with his lips pursed and eyes staring at nothing in particular.

Kurt's thoughts began to wander. This was so weird. So, _so _weird. Blaine never did things like that. Well, Kurt had only known him for a few months... but he knew him well enough to know that Blaine wouldn't take off without telling someone. Maybe not Kurt, definitely not Wes, but Nick or David or Thad or _someone. _Blaine would tell someone, right?

_Maybe something is wrong with Blaine._

_Maybe he's upset._

_Maybe he got bad news._

_Maybe he doesn't want to talk._

_Maybe he's doing something stupid._

_Maybe he wants to die._

_Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe-_

No. _No._ **_No. _**

_Nothing is wrong with Blaine Anderson. _

A sharp bell rings, piercing through Kurt's ears. He suddenly snaps back into reality, unsure of how long he has been standing there. But he has to get to class before he's (even more) late. He reluctantly spins on his heel, walking slowly toward the classroom.

And throughout the whole class period, he is tapping his foot and staring at the clock, thinking of one thing and one thing only: Blaine.


End file.
